


Farewell, from the Stars

by Dammit_Jim



Series: Stargate Universe Oneshots [7]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Descriptions of Suffocation, Descriptions of depression, Disassociation, Funeral, Hurt/Comfort, Im so mean to him, M/M, Poor Rush, Thoughts of death, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Jim/pseuds/Dammit_Jim
Summary: They dial Earth successfully and Rush does not take going "home" well. Young doesn’t help the matter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if there's more tags/warnings I need to add for this. I think I've got all of them but I'm not sure.
> 
> This fic is inspired by the song “From the Stars” by White Lies, and by the overall mood of the the band's album "To Lose My Life..." Other than that I really have no idea what this is or where it came from or if it even works but eh, oh well. This could very easily be set in an alternative version of Twin Destinies where the crew did manage to get back to Earth (but let’s just forget about Telford though, yeah? Cool).
> 
> These oneshots just keep getting longer and longer so whatever, there’s no word limit on these apparently! (and some might even get sequels but again...whatever...)

By some miracle they get home.

 _Some_ miracle.

There are cheers; there are tears. Faceless people pass him by and he’s miserable.

They got _home._

But he’s still on that ship, and that ship is still in his head, and this place he finds himself - which is too bright and colourful and dull - isn’t home at all.

He’s only half surprised when he’s called into General O’Neill’s office and told that his services have been much appreciated but… “Given the situation, and your past actions I’ve been asked - told,” he corrects himself, “to let you go. You know how it is, Rush.”

Rush has neither liked nor disliked O’Neill. He’s never had much of an opinion of him, other than the fact he finds the man unprofessional at times, and that he makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t blame him when the SGC kicks him out. He blames Young. He blames him for forcing the dial back to Earth, for forcing him to return with him, and for telling too much of the truth to Stargate Command. He blames Young for a lot of things. But most of those things he'd left behind on that ship, on Destiny, in a life that no longer exists. 

They’d all been questioned and prodded and forced into psych evals - even those the SGC had decided to let go - read: only Rush. He’d been forced out of Cheyenne Mountain, with nothing but the clothes on his back, and a torn piece of paper carrying Eli’s new phone number. Before he goes he gets an awkward farewell from Colonel Young, consisting of a handshake and a reference to _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_. Young, had of course, not lost his job. 

The SGC floods his bank account with money he doesn’t need - an attempt to buy his silence - and tells him he isn’t allowed to publish any scientific papers - formally or otherwise - or work in a scientific field, for the next three years. Someone at the SGC tells him his old position at UC Berkeley is available, not that he could take it even if he wanted to; he’s not sure if the comment was meant in politeness or if it was meant to unnerve him. 

He packs a bag and buys a plane ticket and flies out to Glasgow the next day.

He’s not quite sure why he decides to go back. He certainly doesn’t miss the grey skies, or the rough accent, or the loud people. He thinks - late one night, whilst nursing a mug of whiskey - that he was seeing if he’d feel as alien in Glasgow as he did, now, in America.

He dreams about Destiny every night.

On the plane over the passenger beside him says he talked in his sleep, and that he spoke in another language, which wasn’t English - “Spanish, maybe?” the man had supposed, “French?”

A cab picks him up at the airport to take him to his hotel and he looks out the window at the dull streets of Glasgow, at the rundown and forlorn buildings, at the hard-edged faces and doesn’t feel at home at all. His hotel room is nice enough but they’ve had the heater on blasting - probably used to foreigners complaining - and he opens a window to air the room. He sits by it, sticks his hand out into the rain and catches raindrops. He lets his hand fill, and overflow, before he tips and watches the water fall.

He feels completely numb, and it’s not because of the frigid wind.

He donates a lot of his money to the local school, and orphanage, anonymously. He remembers what it was like to be a backstreet kid with dreams and no means to meet them. Plus, it’s not like he needs the money, anyway.

Sometimes he wonders what happened to Chloe and Eli, the science team, and even, sometimes, Young. He knows he’s made himself practically uncontactable, and he almost feels guilty for it. He still has contacts at the SGC - no one who he’d call a friend; but people he’d call friendly - and they let him know, within reason, what is going on at Stargate Command. He never asks them for the information, barely even answers any of their emails, and when he does reply it’s to correct a mistake in someone's formulae.

He still has Eli’s number on that scrap bit of paper he'd given him, but he doesn’t go looking for it - not until he gets _the_ email.

 

* * *

 

Young follows the man back to his safe house.

He watches it for days, and learns the man’s schedule. Then, once he’s sure he has it memorised and that the man will be gone for hours, he climbs the fence and picks the lock of the back door. The house is mostly empty and mostly unused. There’s dust on every surface, and the only room that seems to have been lived in is the bedroom.

He flicks through paperwork, takes photos of documents that might be of use, and goes through the cupboard. He’s definetly Lucian Alliance, if the leather garment and the Zat gun are any indication. He finds a phone in the drawer and flicks to the contacts. He finds only one number, and looks through the history to see that it has been called almost weekly. There’s no name on it. He dials the number, and waits.

Something moves out of the corner of his eye but he’s too slow to draw his weapon.

 

* * *

 

Rush stares at the email for a long time; he’s not sure if it’s the news itself, or the way he’s been told but he struggles to take it seriously.

He calls Eli.

“Hello, this is-”

“Eli,” he interrupts.

“Rush?” Eli exclaims. “Holy hell, it’s…Where the hell are you? You just disappeared! It’s been a month. You never called, and we had no way to contact you-”

“Eli!” Rush snaps, kneading his forehead, despite the absence of a headache. “Is it true? Is he dead?”

Eli is quiet for a long time, before he finally breathes a long, shaky sigh, “So, you heard then. It’s…yeah, I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Rush stares at the email.

“There’s going to be a funeral. It’s this Friday, at twelve…just a small thing. A few crew members…his ex-wife I think, they’re all going.”

Rush nods, forgetting Eli can’t see him.

 

* * *

 

The phone flies from Young’s grip as he’s shoved against the wall. He pushes back, forcing his attacker off his feet. The man gets a good grip of Young’s jacket, though, and takes him down with him. They struggle on the floor, and Young realises quickly that he’s a lot smaller than the man and he needs to get up if he wants to have any chance of winning this one.

He’s proven correct when the larger man grips his arms and rolls on top of him. Young kicks out, tries to roll over but the Lucian Alliance member laughs and holds him down. Young tries to lift him off but the guy’s got his legs pinned, and an arm braced against his neck and Young can’t move.

 

* * *

 

“Was it off world?” Rush asks. 

“No,” Eli answers, sounding exhausted. “It was on Earth. He was trying to find a Lucian Alliance mole. He managed to tell the SGC before he…died.”

“What killed him?" He isn't sure why he wants to know but it seems important.

“Huh?” Eli sounds lost.

He doesn't mean to snap but his frustration gets the better of him, “Bullet, explosion, poison?” 

 

* * *

 

The phone sits beside Young’s head and as he struggles, he can vaguely hear it still ringing.

His attacker lifts the weight off his neck for a moment and Young almost manages to dislodge him but then his arm is back and there’s suddenly something around his neck. He chokes as the cord is pulled tight, and he stiffens in shock. He can’t move, and he can’t breathe.

Somebody answers the phone, and faintly he can hear their voice.

He closes his eyes upon recognising it.

 

* * *

 

“Strangulation,” Eli responds, faintly.

Rush catches the first flight back to California.

 

* * *

 

The funeral takes place outside, beside Young’s grave. The lid of his casket is closed and Rush is thankful for that.

Eli hadn’t been exaggerating about how few people would turn up. As soon as he arrives he recognises a couple of faces from Destiny. Becker gives him a small smile, and he gives him a nod in return. Park hugs him, and Brody and Volker try to talk to him. A couple of people he doesn’t know the names of watch him, and he avoids them. He plans to stand at the back but Chloe grabs his hand in hers, once she sees him, and he can’t say no to her. She pulls him along, to come sit beside her in the front row, along with Scott, Eli, Greer and a woman Rush doesn’t recognise. He soon learns - from the pastor who introduces her - that she’s Young’s ex-wife.

The pastor is terrible. He talks about Young like he’s some great, fallen hero who’d never done a bad thing in his life. He quotes sections of the bible, drawing awkward and stretched metaphors that make Rush cringe. The man seems like he’s just trying to fill the silence with nonsense. He definetly does not know Young at all. Rush checks his watch, and wonders when the ridiculous performance will end. He wonders why no one who actually knew Young is giving a speech. He’d thought Scott would want to give a prayer, or Eli or Chloe might have wanted to say a few words. Though, he guesses if he feels exhausted they’re probably dead on their feet.

The pastor says Young is in a better place.

Rush pulls up the collar of his fleece and checks his watch.

The pastor says Young would have liked that they were embracing God because of him.

Rush sighs and crosses his arms and wishes that he'd shut up.

 

* * *

 

Eventually the pastor finishes his drawling lament of nonsense and the coffin is lowered into the ground. Young’s ex-wife leads a trickle of people toward the grave and they drop flowers into the hole, before walking away. Rush remains at his seat, and watches.

“You okay?” Eli asks, when he returns.

“Course,” Rush replies, stiffly.

“Well…we better get going…” Eli points to the others, who are all walking up to the hall. “There’s afternoon tea.”

“I’m going to stay.”

Eli frowns, “Huh?”

“For a cigarette…” Rush says, holding up the pack he’d had stashed in his coat. “I doubt they want me smoking inside.”

“Oh, right,” Eli nods. “Okay. I’ll…see you later?” 

“Maybe,” Rush replies, pulling out a cigarette.

He waits until Eli’s long gone before he stands to light the thing. He cups his hand around the flame to stop it from going out and takes a long drag once it’s lit, before settling his eyes on the grave.

“You _fucking_ bastard,” he growls with venom. “You dragged us all back here just to die on us?” his voice breaks but he’s too exhausted to feel surprised by the pain in his chest and the anger rising in his throat. “Of course you’d _fucking_ die in some _ridiculously_ dramatic way.” He takes another long drag, and feels his throat complain; he’s still not used to smoking as much as he was before. “You just couldn’t die of old age could you? You just couldn’t be boring…”

He stands there for a while, and tells himself he’ll leave once he’s finished his cigarette; that it is the reason why he’s still standing there. He tells himself the emptiness he feels is realisation that they’re not going back to Destiny, and that the mission is over. All those deaths were for nothing; all that hard work was for nothing; all that time and energy he'd spent fighting Young was pointless now.

It’s all Young’s fault. He shouldn’t be dead. They shouldn’t be back on Earth, either. They should be on Destiny, arguing, learning how to work together, getting closer to understanding Destiny’s mission, meeting aliens and learning amazing things, and discovering if they can really ever be friends. Young shouldn’t be dead. He'd made it very clear to Young that he hadn't wanted to be friends; he’d basically told the man as much, himself, when Young had saved his life - saved his life after leaving him on a planet to die. They were reluctant acquaintance, ones who’d worked together for the sake of the crew, for the good of the mission. But he remembers Young asking _“including me?”_ when Rush counted up the minimum number of people who’d have to stay behind to run Destiny. He remembers Young begging him to follow him through the gate when the ship shook around them and consoles flared and sparked, and there was no one left on the ship but them. He’d still be on Destiny if it wasn’t for Young. Young had wanted…he’d wanted to…

He’d wanted to be friends once.

Young had watched him whittling pieces of wood, and said, “I enjoy chess.”

But Rush hadn’t recognised it for the offer of friendship, that it was, until Young had left the room.

He remembers Young asking if he’d slept, if he’d eaten, if he was okay; all invasive and annoying questions. He could take care of himself! He remembers the last time he saw the man. He’d held out his hand to Rush and he had taken it, and it had felt like they’d come full circle back to the first time they’d said farewell in the blasting light and heat of a quickly approaching star.

Young had smiled at him, and held his hand longer than the last time. 

There had been humour in his voice, when he said, “I’d say it was nice working with you but…”

Rush had snorted.

“Take care of yourself, Kid.”

He’d almost called him Butch in return but the name had stuck in his throat and instead he’d given Young a tight-lipped smile.

He looks down at his hand now and it’s still shaking. He cards his fingers through his hair and looks up at the darkening sky and thinks it would be fitting if it rained; if the clouds opened up and thunder roared and the wind bellowed but the sky is silent and still. He walks away and stamps his cigarette out on the path, before making his way up to the street.

 

* * *

 

Autumn ends and winter arrives. It's been three months since Young's funeral, and it finally starts to rain. Not often, and not much, but it _does_ rain.

There's only one window in his apartment - he’s renting in California again - and he has a habit of sitting at it and sticking his hand out into the rain to catch raindrops in his cupped palm. He watches the water as it quickly rises and overflows. He doesn’t know why he does this but when it rains he wants to watch. It might be because it’s the only thing he missed about Earth - being able to enjoy the rain - except that he doesn’t enjoy it.

He feels too numb to enjoy anything.

 

* * *

 

He hates grocery shopping - there's too much of a chance he’ll have to talk with somebody and he can’t handle that - but there’s not enough food in his apartment. There's never enough. He buys too much, and a lot of it will go off before he can eat it, especially considering he doesn’t eat much anymore. He’s not sure why food is suddenly an issue for him, it hadn’t been months ago. Something in his mind must have finally snapped because he goes shopping too often and starts buying things with longer shelf life. It’s not just food, either. He hoards water. He buys water bottles and finds himself filling up multiple jugs and glasses, just so he knows he won't run out. He tries to tell himself that he’s not on Destiny, that food and water aren’t an issue anymore, but he can’t stop. The counter tops are riddled with glasses full of water.

 

* * *

 

Eli and Chloe visit him sometimes; Scott too, though less, and only if Chloe is present. They invite themselves over because he’d never invite them, himself. He tells them when they aren’t welcome but most of the time he simply steps aside and lets them in. Usually Eli and Chloe bring take away, or they’ll cook him something from the mountain of food he’s got stashed away, and they sit on the floor of his apartment when they eat because he doesn't have enough chairs. They talk, or rather Eli and Chloe talk, and Rush sometimes contributes to the conversation; although usually only when math is involved.

 

* * *

 

One night he wakes to find his clothing soaked through with sweat and he panics for a moment. The sheets don’t feel right, the air doesn’t feel right. He can’t feel his skin, and he should have a headache but he doesn’t, and everything just isn’t quite right. It’s raining, though, so he opens the window and sticks his hand out, and feels the pinpricks across his forearm and he finally feels solid again. Surely Destiny couldn’t simulate that feeling? He tilts his hand, and watches the droplets run down his arm. If he's in a simulation he’ll have to die, eventually. No one’s mind or body can last that long joined up to the ship but he knows Destiny can make a week seem like years. He hopes, if he really is in a simulation, that she doesn’t make him wait years.

 

* * *

 

He sits by the open window, catching rain in his cupped hand.

He stops going out.

He smokes too much and drinks too much.

Eli and Chloe come over.

He sits by his window, and catches raindrops.

 

* * *

 

Chloe finds him shivering on the floor of his apartment one morning. There was a storm the previous night, and he'd left the window open, and everything in its vicinity is soaked through, including himself. He doesn’t remember much other than the fact Chloe had shouted. He had forgotten what she sounded like when she was mad; he hadn’t heard her raise her voice since Destiny.

 

* * *

 

Apparently now he needs watching. Chloe and Eli and, yes, even Scott, begin checking up on him more regularly. They force him to leave his apartment with them, and to eat and to sleep, and he rolls his eyes at the reminders, and remembers Young doing the same for him once. They take him out on regular lunches, and one time they invite the rest of the Science Team too. Rush feels a little overwhelmed.

Volker talks to him as they’re waiting in line for coffee. He mentions that the crew hold monthly reunions, and instantly looks guilty about bringing it up. Rush supposes that's because he’s never been invited to one.

“You can come, too,” Volker says.

Rush looks back at their table; Park, Brody, Eli and Chloe are all laughing. He isn’t sure he could handle seeing the whole crew again.

“It’s at Eli’s,” Volker continues. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Rush takes his coffee from the counter once it’s done and shrugs, “Okay.”

Volker looks both relieved and surprised by his reply.

 

* * *

 

He arrives late.

A crew member, whose face he recognises, opens the front door. She frowns and hesitates for a moment, before stepping aside and letting him in. He gets a lot of glares as he walks down the hallway but he isn’t surprised by them. He steps into the living room, and sees Eli laughing as he talks with another crew member. He stops when he sees Rush, and his eyes go wide. He’s confused for a moment before he recognises the curly hair, and short, stocky figure of the man in front of Eli. 

Even before the man speaks Rush knows it’s him.

“What is it, Eli?” Young asks, before turning around and seeing him, standing in the doorway.

Their eyes meet and Rush sees red.

A moment later Young is sprawled on the floor, rubbing at his jaw and Rush is being held back by several people. Vaguely he can hear Volker apologising, Eli begging him to calm down and Chloe calling his name. He knows everyone is staring but all he can think of doing is punching Young in the face, again.

Young’s staring at him but he doesn’t look angry at all. He looks surprised, and confused and _fuck_ him, he’s not allowed to feel those things, not after what he’d done. Rush suddenly can’t breathe and begins struggling in Greer and Scott’s grips for a totally different reason. He has to get out of there.

“Let _go_ of me!” he snaps.

“Are you going to freak out on us again?” Scott asks.

“No, I’m going to leave!” Rush growls back. “Let me the _fuck_ go.”

They do, and he shoves passed the faceless people; sees glaring eyes, hears his name a few times, and then finally he’s outside in the cooler air.

 

* * *

 

He’s shaking, still on the verge of fury, and he waits for it to subside and for the numbness to set in. The front door opens behind him and he begins to walk away.

“Rush?”

He quickens his pace.

“Rush!” Young calls, closer this time.

He snaps. “What!” he yells, spinning on the spot.

Young holds up his hands. “I just…I was undercover,” he tries to explain.

Rush doesn't care. “Did they know?” he demands, waving a hand at Eli’s house.

Young frowns, and Rush feels sick. They all knew and didn’t tell him. How long had they known? Had they all been pretending at the funeral? Why didn’t they tell him?

“There was a security breach,” Young explains. “Somebody at the SGC was leaking information. They had intimate details about Destiny.”

Rush grows cold, “And you though it was me.”

“You were alone with the Lucian Alliance for a long time.”

“And whose bloody fault is that!” Rush snarls.

Young looks away.

So does Rush. He looks at the sky and thinks it might rain. He avoids Young’s eyes.

“I _wasn’t_ even in the country,” he says.

“If it’s any consolation I didn’t think it was you,” Young replies. “But I found a phone at the safe house the Lucian Alliance were using, and the only contact on it was yours. I had to report that to the SGC.”

Rush raises an eyebrow. He'd thought he'd been getting a lot of prank calls. Someone kept ringing him and never speaking. He'd almost blocked the person until they'd eventually stopped. He supposed he knew now why they'd stopped.

“When I looked into it, it was obvious you were being set up,” Young continues. “Plus, it wasn’t your style. It was too easy to dismantle the operation.”

Rush laughs, coldly. “So, you didn’t think I was the mole because I’d be cleverer about it?” he asks. “I guess I should be _flattered_ then.” He’s so angry he can taste blood in his mouth from where he’s bitten a hole in his cheek.

“Well, yes,” Young replies, stepping forward. It’s only then that Rush realises Young has been advancing, slowly, as if he’s worried he might scare him away if he moves too quickly. “I knew it wasn’t you after the funeral.”

Rush freezes. Young had been there. He’d been there to see if the mole would turn up, and that meant he’d seen Rush stay behind. He’d seen him talk to his grave, possibly even heard what he’d said. He deflates a little, and feels weak.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” Young says, sincerely.

Rush finally meets Young’s eyes, and he waits for Destiny to pull the rug out from underneath him, for the simulation to dissolve or for everything to finally, fade to black. But nothing happens.

 

* * *

 

Young watches Rush with a frown. He'd been shocked when Rush had lunged at him in fury. He knows it wasn’t the best way for Rush to have found out but he didn’t think the man cared that much. He’d planned on telling Rush, eventually, once his name was cleared, but he hadn’t expected…He understands it a little better now that he can see Rush’s expression up close. There’s no panic or anger or cold indifference in the man’s expression, just this blank detachment. It's acceptance. But of what, Young isn't sure.

Then suddenly Young realises. Rush looks like he’s waiting for Young to disappear. Young steps forward, and Rush’s hand automatically comes up, presses against his chest as if to stop him but instead he’s hand curls into the material and he doesn’t let go. Young almost breaks when he feels the desperation in Rush’s grip. Rush really isn’t sure if he’s real. The jolt of guilt that Young feels in that moment is staggering, and leaves an acidic taste in his mouth.

“I’m really here,” Young reassures.

Rush shakes his head, “This could be a simulation. I could still be on Destiny.”

Young lays a hand on Rush’s arm, and Rush’s detached expression finally falters. "As much as you want to be back there, Kid, I’m afraid we really are home.”

Rush scoffs, and looks down, but doesn’t pull away. “ _Home,_ ” he says, with malice. “I could be hallucinating,” he adds. 

“Then you’d be talking to yourself,” Young smiles but there’s little humour in the gesture.

“I wouldn’t put it passed myself,” Rush replies.

Young cups Rush’s cheek, and tilts his head up so that their eyes meet again. Rush freezes, and his eyes are filled with confusion and surprise. They’re wider than Young has ever seen them, and for a moment he looks a lot younger than he is.

“You’re not hallucinating, Kid,” Young tells him.

Then, Rush is surging forward, smacking their lips together and curling his arms around Young, and the Colonel is thrown for a moment. He’d suspected but never- he’d never thought- he’d…Then Rush starts shaking, and his kisses become sloppy, and Young feels tears against his cheeks and all he can do is hold Rush. He's never seen this side of the man, and he's so shocked by the emotional outburst that his own eyes begin to sting. He hadn’t realised how much Rush was struggling to acclimatise to Earth. He hadn’t realised how badly Rush would take his death.

“It’s okay,” Young says, and he has no clue what else to do other than hold Rush tight.

“I hate it here,” Rush replies, laughing brokenly, and still shaking.

“Yeah, I know,” Young says, kissing Rush’s forehead, and holding him. “But we’ll make it home, you'll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry for the angst, hope the ending isn’t too jarring. Also I have nothing against religion or religious funerals, I just went to one once and the pastor was terrible so I drew on that for this example. Plus, I was also channeling Rush’s snarkiness, you know how it is.
> 
> If you like Stargate Universe don't forget to check out my on-going fic [ZERO-ONE INFERNO](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8019247).


End file.
